They Are Coming
by HeartandImagination
Summary: AU: Mix of blue & amber timelines; a green timeline? - Peter wasn't erased when he built the Bridge. However, September did warn Walter that "They Are Coming," Instead of Observers, it's a threat out of this world. Mulder & Scully join Fringe Division to help. Rated T for language, violence, and sexual dialogue.
1. A Whole Lot in Common

"_Easy for you say, your heart has never been broken. Your pride has never been stolen. Not Yet. Not Yet. One of these days, I bet your heart will be broken. I bet your pride will be stolen. I bet. I bet. One of these days…"_

Peter Bishop sang along to the ironically named Foo Fighters as he paced outside of the Kresge Building at Harvard, his eyes on his watch. His movements were a minimally successful attempt to keep warm in the harsh, mid-November wind. Boston was heaven on Earth to him, and he loved his second home in New York, but sometimes winter made him reevaluate his affection for the two places. On a day like this, he preferred to be at home, with his beloved wife and new baby girl, all of them snuggled up next to a roaring fire. But as usual, the universe had other ways to ruin… occupy… his day.

An urgent phone call from Broyles, none-the-less, told him that he, his father, and Astrid would be meeting a veteran FBI agent, who was assigned to Fringe Division, about an urgent matter of global security. One does not simply tell Phillip Broyles, "Fuck off. I am sick of saving the world, and would rather change diapers," even though Peter had once told the man that if he saved two universes, to officially consider him to be retired… He should have got that in writing…

Technically, Peter was more involved with Massive Dynamic. He was also taking a few courses to earn duel Master's degrees in mechanical and electrical engineering; the few he needed after testing out of everything for a bachelor's and most of the master's. But… what Nina Sharp wants, she gets, and Broyles had a lot of pull with her. Rather than evoke her ire, Peter just accepted that he was getting dragged into whatever this was. Besides, if Nina didn't get him, Olivia would, and he didn't want to go that far up the chain-of-command…

So there Peter was, freezing his balls off, as he tried not to think about what might be metaphorically dropped into his lap to warm them up, or worse, set them, and his entire ass on fire. He just knew that he was in for it when he heard the new agent's name.

Finally, a black GMC pulled up, and the driver climbed out and approached him.

"Agent Mulder?"

An older, taller, clean shaven, lanky man, wearing a heavy overcoat offered his hand to the scruffy, younger man adorned in a pea coat.

"You must be Peter Bishop?"

"The one and only," Peter chuckled as he firmly took his visitor's hand. "If you know what's good for you, you'd turn around and get right back into that car now, he joked. "You're here to see my father, correct?"

"All of you, actually. General Broyles was very adamant about it."

"Well, it is so nice to be so highly regarded. We were once the underfunded, under-the-boot-heel, red-headed-stepchild of the FBI."

"Ha, Mr. Bishop. I know a thing or two about being the FBI's most unwanted," Mulder mused as the two men made their way into the building. Peter led him to a narrow, dimly-lit stairwell, and they climbed down them.

"So we should get along smashingly, eh? Anyway..." Peter shoved the lab doors apart, and opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. "Welcome to Fringe Division, Agent Mulder. As you know, truth is stranger than fiction, and all those cheesy mad-scientist movies get their stereotypes from some form of reality. So, naturally, all of the important stuff always takes place in some basement somewhere. Just watch your step, and um… I'd advise not to look too hard. And just for the record, if you see any illegal substances, they are not mine."

"I am quite familiar with the utility of basements, too, Mr. Bishop," Mulder slyly grinned. "The underbelly of the outdated—er, I mean venerable—J. Edgar Hoover Building was the home of the FBI's most unwanted for many years; that being me, and the X-Files. Somehow I managed to fit a desk in that basement rat warren I called an office, for someone who willingly signed up for my crusade. Scully and I went through Hell together; so much happened there."

The veteran agent looked around the lab, and he felt like he had stepped back in time. He could hear Aerosmith's _Toys in the Attic_ playing in the distance, most likely from the office.

_Leaving the things that are real behind_

_Leaving the things that you love from mind_

_All of the things that you learned from fears_

_Nothin' is left for the years_

_Voices scream_

_Nothin' seen_

_Real's the dream_

"And Goodnight, Mr. Tyler," Peter inflected as he took the needle off of the record. "Only Boston's finest here, Agent Mulder."

Sensing his concern Peter interjected, "The REAL Fringe Division headquarters is located in the Federal building. I also maintain my own research facility at Massive Dynamic in New York. I'm often there, or at MIT; sometimes here when Dad needs me, or when Agent Farnsworth needs to escape. Anyway, my father prefers his lab here, and once Walter Bishop makes up his mind… it's difficult to alter."

"So I've heard," Mulder muttered as he gawked at the place where so much of great importance was said to have happened. "Like father like son, too, I gather."

Peter scowled for a second.

"I understand that they called you, 'Spooky' when you were first an FBI Agent, Mr. Mulder."

The agent countered, "I was warned that you are Mr. Sarcasm."

Peter feigned indignence. "Oh, that is so wounding. I only speak the truth and get labeled as a troublemaker."

Mulder flashed one of his trademark mile high grins, and chuckled, "Bishop, I think that you and I understand each other completely then. People don't like the truth. It makes them uncomfortable, and once the cat is let out of the bag, most of the masses yearn to be ignorant. But there is no undoing what was seen or heard. No putting the genie back into the bottle. I, too, sometimes wish I had not stuck my nose where it didn't belong. I thought I had wanted to know the truth. The truth would set me free; would absolve me of my guilt. When in the end, the quest consumed me and just about everyone I loved."

Peter nodded his head understandably, having nearly been undone by his own relentless drive to seek answers. "As they say, Agent Mulder: "Be careful what you wish for.'"

"I have a file on you, Bishop."

"Oh, really? Like that line wasn't what was used to drag me back here years ago, and now I am married to the woman who used it, we have a child, and we just might be working on baby number two. So, I'd be careful how you try to blackmail me, Agent Mulder. You might get more than you bargained for." Peter blinked his eyes rapidly and displayed a daring smirk.

"Who said anything about blackmail? It's a psychological analysis, and that is far more telling to me. It's an especially good story for a conman to marry the law. Instead of handcuffs, he's bound by a simple band of silver on his finger. Just how does that happen, Peter? I know how it did. I know lots of things about you," Mulder stood up as tall as he could, which allowed him to look slightly down at the cocky man before him.

Peter snorted a short laugh. "Now I am scared. You have a reputation for being a mind reader. A gift for understanding what makes a criminal mind tick. My wife—Agent Dunham—mentioned how she admires your work. You've personally caught some of the most demented minds, and consulted on countless famous cases. So, in all seriousness; why did the great 'Spooky' Mulder compile a profile for me? I've never been too much of a threat; a low man on the totem pole."

"Maybe Olivia wasn't lying to you after all, my friend. Your name was tossed onto my desk around 2000 for some serious mob connections. But you were mainly being watched simply for being Walter Bishop's genius son. There was concern that you would go rogue and the government was not sure what you knew about your father's genetic, disease, and parallel universes research. Given your intellectual capability and connections, there seemed to be some fear that you'd sell your services to the highest bidder."

"Which turned out to be absolutely for nothing. I bought my father's toothpaste formula cover story hook, line and sinker. And services? Well… if you call conducting shady deals with shady folks in shady places, and giving the occasional fuck in exchange for information, 'selling services,' that's all there was to it. So… what do you know about yours truly, since Olivia wasn't willing to divulge that information when I asked her many years ago. Tried my darndest to charm it out of her, as I smiled and batted my eyes while talking with her over coffee. But she convinced me that she had conned me with a nonexistent file."

_Leave it to Olivia to use a real threat, only to make it seem like it was a ruse in order to avoid uncomfortable conversation. God, I love her._

"Let's just say when I first started it, it wasn't exactly flattering. For one thing, most people without such intimate knowledge about your life would be of the opinion that if you were really living up to your intelligence, you would have done just as the government had feared. Something prevented you from doing that, Mr. Bishop. A small, inner voice of integrity; you weren't willing to cross that line."

_Be a better man than your father._

"I recently updated the profile, and it paints a pretty amazing progression. You were far from evil genius. Deeply wounded by your father's commitment to an asylum, and your mother's suicide, you were a man set adrift—a rebel—who relished the power of small-time crime, and the thrill of the many women that you could bed with your roguish charm and fat wallet. It was like a drug, and you increasingly needed more outlandish things to get your high. But then you got in over your head, and that wasn't fun. You wanted more than the girls you'd screw and never see again. You wanted to do something memorable. But you hated to hurt innocent people, and you would not betray your country. This is what I saw when I put the pieces of Peter Bishop's mind together at that time."

"Most humans need an anchor, something to hold onto. Or as I like to call it, a constant, or 'touchstone.' We need roots, a place to regroup in this harsh world. Having learned fully about you, and your origin, this file is way different. One would almost say you are not the same person. And that's true. You are not the same man that you were, Bishop. There was a stretch of your life where you were what anyone else needed you to be. You are now the man that you were meant to be. Hence, why I feel that you, Olivia, Walter, and Astrid are the only people that we can rely on to help us. Win me over, and I'll give you access to your coveted file. You won't even have to flirt with me to get it. But… I would take my own advice about what I wished for..."

Mulder decided at this point that it would be best to cut through shooting the breeze and get straight to the chase. He asked the younger man a question that he asked many people over the years—with varying degrees of responses—much in a tone that he had used with Scully many years ago when they had first met.

"Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?" His left eyebrow arched as he posed a curious glance.

Peter knew about Mulder's other work, and far more than was published under 'M.F. Luder's' account of the X-Files called, _I Want to Believe_. His friend, Sheriff Mathis in Noyo County, Oregon had recommended the book to him. She was serious student of alien visitation and abduction. Many central events in Mulder's account took place in Oregon, a central hub for UFO activity and alien abductions. Peter made a mental note to get Agent Mulder's autograph for her later. Markham would likely offer Peter the keys to his store if he got to meet Mulder… and especially Agent Scully. He figured he'd spare Scully the trouble.

"Nothing is impossible Mr. Mulder. I've seen things that no human being should know, and experienced other realities. My wife has done amazing things that no one else can do. Hell, I am from a parallel universe, and made a bridge between this one and the other. So, the existence of intelligent life on other planets makes a hell of a lot more sense than not."

However, with that being said, I am of the opinion of Stephen Hawking. If there is intelligent life out there, that can get here, then I sure as hell don't want to know. If you've ever been a serious student of history—you've read Howard Zinn, maybe—you know that the technologically superior view less advanced peoples as merely creatures to be subdued and subjugated. We'd simply be nothing more than an ant colony to them, and those bigger, stronger, smarter ants would wipe us out and take our colony."

"It's funny that you chose that analogy, Bishop, because the threat of colonization is very real. It's been in place since first contact at Roswell. Cowardly men-in-high-places bought us more time, but in doing so, they also sold us down the river. All in an attempt to save their own sorry asses."

"If we don't stop what's coming, every man, woman, and child on the planet will be slave ants or dead ants. We need your help."

"Did you say that your name was Mulder, Sir?" Walter asked the tall agent as he came from the bathroom and sat down next to his son, which derailed the serious conversation. "Sorry, it took so long. When you get old, you get constipated."

Peter shot a mean glare at Walter because of the offhand remark, and Walter responded with one of his own, as he saw nothing wrong with sharing the reason for his delay.

"Yeah, it's Mulder. Fox Mulder," as he extended his hand out to the older Bishop. I am pleased to meet you Dr. Bishop. My wif… partner… thinks highly of you. And it's OK. Bathroom time is a good time to read."

"Yes, I always keep a copy of _Hump_ handy. It has very interesting articles," Walter stated with a smile.

_Peter wanted to crawl under a rock..._

"Excellent choice, Dr. Bishop. One of my favorites as well," Mulder chuckled.

"Hmm… I think that I once worked on a project for a man named Mulder… William was his name, just like my friend Belly. Is he a relation, Mr. Mulder?"

Mulder paused for a moment before answering. "Not quite. I inherited his name, he raised me, I called him Dad, and I loved him. But I found out that I was not his biological son."

Both Peter and Walter exchanged knowing glances with one another. Peter, knowing all too well what it was like to learn that you had been deceived all of your life about your heritage, a fast flash of, _"I am NOT your son," _in his mind. But genetically, Walter was his father, and as far as Peter was concerned, the fact that he was his DAD was all that mattered.

"Since it's full disclosure, Agent Mulder, it's safe to say I have you beat in the Daddy issues department. Walter is my father, but isn't."

Mulder interrupted him. "Yeah… you are the other Earth version of his son… I heavily researched you all. The Fringe files had security clearances one wouldn't believe, certainly higher than anything in the X-Files. To be honest, I was a bit awed about some of the things I had read. I thought I had seen it all: flukemen, crazy diseases, mind control, time loops, werewolves, vampires, little green men…"

"Peter laughed and said, "Whoa. Stop. Did you just say 'werewolves' and 'vampires?' Really?"

"What? Are humanoid characters of the fantastic—which have been written off as delusional manifestations of the human mind—where you draw the line, Bishop? Yes, we humans have this long ingrained mental need to assign understandable meaning to things that we do not understand, but I assure you that these boogeymen are very real."

"I inserted a bit of my trademark sarcasm there, Spooky," Peter smirked. "I once watched a subpar Wes Craven werewolf flick called _Cursed_, which oddly enough had some actor—named Jackman, or Yackson, or something—that made me question if he was an alternate version of me. To be honest, he was the only redeeming factor about the film. Anyway, the whole time, I was laughing because it was NOT anything like real werewolf accounts."

"I am under the impression that maybe they could have just called you Mr. Smartass instead."

"Olivia has been known to call me her 'massive, pain-in-the-ass,' and I have dubbed myself 'dumbass' probably every day of my life. If she's anything like me, my daughter will probably often call me 'asshole' when she's a teenager, so what's one more ass moniker?"

Mulder laughed, and then Walter coughed to gain some attention.

"Would you like a Red Vine, Agent Mulder?" A little bit of sugar might be a good thing to tide us over until we go for dinner," Walter offered as he extended a wavy, red, twirly confection to Mulder.

Peter's eyes grew wide as he kept a personal rule about eating any food found in the lab, after one too many ear omelets and seizure-inducing milk surprises. "Walter. Just be sure those are the ones that you didn't spritz with that 'extra additive.'"

Mulder's eyebrow arched. "Extra additive?"

"Ah, Mr. Mulder. My father is a conosuier of the finer things in life. You have managed to catch him on a day where he has not yet imbibed. He is a great fan of Lysergic Acid diethylamide or as he says, "ripping open his consciousness."

"Umm… that's OK, I'm good. Thank you Dr. Bishop." Mulder shook a bag of SPITZ sunflower seeds in his hand. "I brought my own vice. I'm not a fan of recreational drugs. Also, I despise cigarettes with an abnormal passion."

"Suit yourself, Agent Mulder. I know that tripping isn't for everyone."

"Speaking of consciousness, Dr. Bishop, I suspect that there is a lot about your work with William Mulder, and another man, that you cannot remember. I understand that you suffer serious memory lapses, to the point of missing years. I can't even use hypnosis to retrieve those lost memories, but there may be some suppressed memories that we can unlock."

Just then, a moo echoed across the lab, which made Mulder stiffen, then shoot his head up to find the source. "Ethical test subject, I presume?"

Walter beamed, "Yes, that's my Gene."

"Hmm," Mulder grinned. "The aliens thought cows were ethical for tests. Then they moved on to humans."

"Sadly, Mr. Mulder—and I am not proud of this—but I moved from humans to cows…"

"Hence, why we need to unlock your mind, Dr. Bishop."

Astrid entered the office and set down some bags. As she took off her coat she nervously spoke, "Sorry for being late, everyone. The pie took longer than expected."

"Pie?" Mulder's interest was piqued.

Astrid looked at the older man and felt like a shy school-girl who had just met her favorite boy-band member.

_Fox Mulder is talking to me. Pinch me_.

"Asston?" Walter asked, eager for news about the pie.

"Oh, yeah. Sweet potato. We're gearing up the recipe for Thanksgiving."

"Fresh-baked sweet potato pie? My favorite." Oh, Agent Farnsworth, can I keep you?" Mulder flirted.

Astrid fainted into Peter's lap.


	2. Sins of the Father

As she drove along the crazy, crowded and winding streets of Boston, Dana Scully had a lot of thoughts on her mind. She and Mulder had been following this threat for what seemed like a lifetime. Increases in UFO activity had been reported by MUFON, and were also secretly watched by the Department of Defense. She thought that it was fortunate—or not, depending on one's perspective—that not very many people were aware that the next month could very well be the last of their lives.

People would prepare for Christmas celebrations of peace, love and joy, not even aware that war, death and misery were on their way. Scully almost wished that people knew. That she could make them believe. Then maybe an outcry for action might accomplish something. The darkness would be arriving on their doorstep in full ferocity, and an all-enveloping curtain would be drawn over humanity.

But no, the world depended on a motley crew of the most unlikely, yet amazing, people… Their resistance would be all that stood in the way of the next extinction event.

The woman that she was going to see was the most special of them all. Agent Dunham had graduated summa cum laude from Northwestern law school and distinguished herself as a Marine Corps Captain. She was promptly snapped up by the Bureau. Her service record was exemplary in every aspect. Then it became murky sometime around early 2008. Things were missing, redacted or highly classified. It took every marker Scully had to retrieve needed background information about Fringe Division's finest. Skinner had arranged for an extensive briefing with General Phillip Broyles, and she and Mulder had to sign tons of disclosures affirming that they would not divulge anything that they learned to anyone else, upon threat of treason charges.

But that was not a threat to her. She was more concerned with what Broyles had told them:

"These people are my family. I'm not worried about you two as your trustworthiness precedes you. But, do know that if any harm came to any member of my family, I'd make sure that the offenders would wish for a prison in North Korea."

She knew what people would do for chosen family. Sometimes those you choose are more precious than those you were given.

What she and Mulder had been told about these people was beyond anything that she could have ever imagined. They were the biggest X-File, ever.

She composed herself before she knocked on the red door of the beautiful home. Her mind wondered if the door was painted red as a conscious symbol, much like the way the Hebrews painted doors with lamb's blood to let death know to pass them over. Scully smiled warmly, even though she felt very much like a harbinger of doom… The door opened and she was welcomed by a lovely, tall, blond woman with piercing emerald green eyes.

"Agent Scully, Welcome."

"Thanks for having me to your home today, Agent Dunham."

"It's technically Dunham-Bishop, but to make it easier, you can just call me, Olivia, Agent Scully."

"Please, call me Dana."

They walked into the living room, and sat down on the newish blue couch. Olivia and Peter bought the place less than a year ago.

"My daughter is asleep, so maybe we can talk in a little peace."

"Daughter?"

"Yes, our baby, Henrietta. Or Etta, for short. She's two-months-old today, in fact. That's why you are meeting me here today. I am on a reduced capacity until Etta is six-months-old."

_Reduced capacity… Sadly dear, you will be pushed to the limit in the next few weeks…_

"Congratulations, Olivia. And this makes what I have come to talk with you about even more pressing. But there's enough time for that. Let's get to know one another, and more than what we were able to glean professionally."

"Thank you. Now you've made me even more nervous…" Olivia smiled low and lowered her eyes, which were twinkling with giddiness.

"Nervous? Why would a veteran agent like you be nervous about a briefing? You've been through some fairly trying times."

Olivia grew a bit blush in the face and took a deep breath.

"Because, Agent Scully. You are one of my heroes, and you are sitting on my couch having coffee with me… Or will be having coffee. I'm so excited that I forgot to offer."

Scully smiled. Not that she could not remember herself what it was like to have a mentor or someone who had inspired her. It is a big deal to meet one's heroes.

"It's OK, Olivia. There's no reason to worry about me judging you. You have your own accomplishments that I find inspiring as well. They wanted to write comics about the X-Files, when in actuality, you are a real superhero."

_One of my biggest idols has just told me that I am basically Wonder Woman. Just kill me now. This fan-girling is too uncharacteristic for me._ Olivia crushed the desire to squee in happiness.

* * *

"When I first read Peter's file, I was interested in why Fox Mulder had completed a profile for him. I mean… Mulder's reputation as THE profiler, was known to anyone in the Bureau. I was really worried about what we were getting ourselves into with this guy. As I read, it became obvious that Peter was just small potatoes and was mainly being watched due to who his father was. Which I soon saw was a waste of time, just as Mulder had judged in his assessment. When I mentioned Doctor Bishop on the return trip from Iraq, I found out that Peter vehemently despised his father at that time, and knew nothing about him or his work."

"You know the funny lesson to be learned from this, Olivia?"

"There's something funny?"

"After everything in your gut initially telling you that this guy was bad news, you ended up marrying him, and having his baby," Scully softly smiled.

Olivia snorted a little laugh. "I guess the joke's on me. Well, at least we weren't like that Carrie and Brody on that television show, _Homeland._ They make me squirm. Like, who the hell does that? Ew." Olivia laughed as she crinkled her nose in disgust.

"I like that show. That would be like me falling in love with this guy named Alex Krycek. Agreed. Ew." Scully giggled. "Oh, I had a bit of eating crow, too. After all, Mulder thought that I was a mole sent to spy on him and to debunk his work… which was the truth. Except I was not the person my handlers had expected me to be, because Mulder was not the man I had expected. He changed me, and I changed him. We grew together and that friendship developed into a deep, abiding love."

"Yeah, my initial perception of Peter was not kind. He reminded me of an overgrown child who was too smart for his own good, and he needed to be whipped. But it didn't take long at all for him to turn it all on its head, and me, too. He taught me to love and trust, and I taught him to fight for something more than himself—to be a man. He ended being worth everything we went through, and our precious, miracle daughter is something that can never be replaced. I guess you could say that he did end up whipped after all."

"Miracle?"

"Oh, Dana. If you have a little time, there's a story that I can tell you that might just be on par with anything you've ever seen or heard. And I know that's a pretty steep claim, but I'd wager on it."

* * *

So, you had experiments conducted on you as a little girl, I understand. Conducted by Dr. Bell and Dr. Bishop?

"Yes. Drug studies for a substance known as Cortexiphan."

"I think we came across a couple others who had been dosed with the drug, Olivia. There were some teenagers that exhibited all kinds of 'gifts.' Mulder dubbed them, 'X-Men,' like the comic book characters. But Mulder, too, became under the influence of powers which allowed him to manifest extraordinary abilities, such as advanced ESP. It makes me wonder how much of Cortexiphan was Bishop and Bell's doing, and how much of it was gleaned from extraterrestrial sources… We will find out from Doctor Bishop, I hope."

"That may take some time, Dana. Walter… he is more brilliant than me, you, Mulder, Peter, and Astrid combined, probably. But… he suffers from a scrambled brain. His memories concerning those trials are very broken, and I still don't think that I've heard the full story. Those trials… they defined my life… and ruined others."

"I had my own share of experimentation done against my will, as you probably know from Mulder's book… They too, set me on my life's path. I hate to say it, but as much as I wanted to help Mulder find out the truth… the truth is, I was not fully invested until it became personal."

"But your endurance only made my opinion of you even stronger, because I could identify with that kind of… well… rape. We turned our greatest adversity into our greatest strength. But at least my trials did not leave me… how to put this?"

Olivia closed her eyes for a second, as she collected her thoughts, and then sharply exhaled.

"They took your ability to have children, Dana. It's terrible. Peter and I were at least left with the chance to have a normal, healthy daughter. Not saying that we didn't have our fears."

"I mean we're from different universes, so we weren't sure if our differing respective resonating frequencies would be compatible. Peter had that illness as a child, and we were afraid of what my Cortexiphan might do. We feared for her up until the day she was born. We were afraid that I'd miscarry, or that she'd be deformed, or that she would be able to make lights flicker and to set things on fire. We even had the thought that she might be able to phase between universes. Our biggest fear stemmed from the fact that I was dead for a few minutes from that encounter with cancer-crazed William Bell. But, the pregnancy was uneventful, and after a day's labor, we had a 7 pound, 4 ounces, 'normal' baby girl. Now, we are still afraid for her, but for other reasons."

"Our children are the reason we do what we do, Olivia."

"Our?"

"There is one thing that Mulder left out of that book, because I asked him to. It is something that hurt too much, and I didn't want the world to know our greatest pain."

Olivia grew very concerned because stoic Dana Scully suddenly took a tone of deep melancholy.

"We had a son. His name was William."

Olivia gasped. "Oh, my. I'm sorry. Hearing about my daughter must be very painful for you. What happened? What do you mean by _had_?"

Scully took the younger woman's hand and held it softly.

"No, Olivia. On the contrary, hearing about precious Etta, and how she almost wasn't, makes me even happier for you and for Peter. You deserve her. You deserve to be a mother."

"Mulder… had had some interesting things done to his genetic makeup from an alien virus, something that almost behaved in the manner of Cortexiphan. It heightened activity in his temporal lobe, giving an advanced ESP ability. However, from what I gather, Cortexiphan allows the body to adjust to the mind's increased activity. This ability almost killed him. He was kidnapped so that this SOB could transfer the hybridization to himself. After this was all said and done, we thought nothing more of it until we received a call from someone from our first case—one Billy Miles.

"The abductee from Oregon?"

"Yes. It was happening again, except this time they were rounding up all of the abductees. I thought I would be in danger, but in actuality they wanted Mulder, because other than Cassandra Spender, he was the only other known living hybrid."

Somehow before he was taken, I had fallen pregnant. As you know, I thought I had no eggs left, that they were all taken from me. We had tried to use some he had located in a government storage facility for an in vitro process, but it had failed. Our William was the only child born to a hybrid parent who had survived. Or so we had thought… A crazy, doomsday cult stole him, and we were made aware that the alien collaborator forces would be intent on destroying him. He symbolized humanity's survival, and even the alien resistance recognized this. To protect him, I gave him up for anonymous adoption."

Olivia put her hand up to her mouth as she contemplated the sad story that she had just heard.

"Peter… he had a son, too. Henry. To make a long story short, he was deceived by a parallel universe version of me. We found out that his biological father had used Henry like a pawn. The baby's blood was what was used to start their machine. However, it lacked Peter's mind, and that was what mattered most.

"The boy was kidnapped before he was even a few months old. Remember what I told you about Observers? They did this. At least a rogue faction of them did… Peter never even got to see him. He only found out because Walternate was imprisoned for his actions. He did terrible things to my alternate. She was very much a pawn, too. We had a good, heart-to-heart about what happened; how she was used."

"Although it hurt me to learn about this boy, I knew it wasn't anyone's fault, except for Walternate. Peter has tried to find him, but that's hard to do when the perpetrators can travel time and space… He sometimes has nightmares that they take Etta, too. I don't know how many times I have woken up to his cries of, 'please don't take my daughter.'"

"We have a LOT more in common than I thought, Olivia," Scully mournfully sighed. "You may want to put your coffee down. We have reason to believe that Dr. Bishop and Dr. Bell had worked on prior genetic hybridization experiments, not fully understanding that they were of alien origin until it was too late. We think we know why Peter was very sick as a boy. If it's true, then your daughter may be at risk, just like William. In any case, _everyone_ is at risk of extinction."

At that moment, Etta's cries could be heard from the nursery upstairs. Olivia's blood ran cold.

Olivia headed off to her daughter's nursery and beckoned for Scully to follow. The room was cozy, painted a sea foam green, with cute little seahorse appliques on the walls.

"This is very nice, Olivia."

"I painted the walls, and picked out the drapes, sheets, clothes, toys, and such. But every piece of furniture in this room was designed, cut, assembled and stained by Etta's father."

The infant clutched at her mother and immediately sought what she was making a fuss over.

Scully was truly touched at the thought of the love manifested by the couple for their child, and it brought up old, repressed feelings. "Now seems like a good time to go. Don't want to keep a hungry baby waiting. I need to meet my partner, and I want to speak to Peter. We will all meet soon to compare information and to form a strategy." She looked at the bundle in Olivia's arms and smiled at the adorable child. "Take care, Olivia and little Etta. See you soon."

As Scully drove away, Olivia whimpered and held Etta as close as possible, as she kissed the top of her little head. She had always had a terrible tendency to be on edge, as she waited for the other shoe to drop whenever she was happy. It seemed that a size 14 steel-toed work boot was going to be dropped on her toes. Normal? That's what other people have. Her life, because of what she was, what she had seen, and what she had done, seemed destined to be far from normal, always. People would always need her.

* * *

Mulder stood in front of a screen, intent on giving Peter Bishop the grisly details of a connective past, one that the younger man was not aware of. Astrid sat with them.

_No pressure, really._

"The condensed version of what we are about to tell you was once told to an FBI auditor. He was not impressed. I, however, think that you will fully understand its ramifications and find it… of personal interest. For once, we have been given a fairly unlimited expense account, so after you hear this, you might want to invest in one of those fancy doomsday bunkers…"

_Click_

"A little less than five years before you were born, a pact was made, and family members were sacrificed to the advanced guard of those who wished to rain "Purity" upon the Earth. A lot of brilliant men worked on the project. A secret spanning generations. The goals was to perfect a race of alien-human hybrids to be used as a slave race by the invaders. Everyone else was to be exterminated."

_Click_

"There is another species of alien that are resisting these aliens; they are trying to prevent their dominion over the universe. They are recognizable because they have mutilated their faces—they have covered their orifices in an attempt to prevent infection by the alien 'Purity' virus, the substance which might also see referred to as "black oil. They use fire to terminate their targets. Some of their 'victims' had been investigated for spontaneous human combustion."

Peter was concerned as this hit a bit close to home; specifically Olivia. "We had some cases that appeared to have been spontaneous human combustion, and we reviewed X-Files about the subject. But we determined that our cases were caused from the activation of certain Cortexiphan subjects. So, you're saying that the perpetrators in your X-File are here on this planet, waiting for an invasion?"

Mulder answered. "Yes. There are also alien bounty hunters. They are more advanced than the shapeshifters that you know of. They can alter appearance and DNA with sheer force of will. If you've ever read _Dune_, think of them as being like Tleilax Facedancers."

_Click_

"Cassandra Spender was the wife of CGB Spender. They had a son, Jeffrey."

_Click_

"Tina Mulder was my mother and she was married to William Mulder, the man who I knew as my father.

It turns out that CGB Spender was our biggest nemesis, a man we called Cancer man or Cigarette Smoking Man, although my preferred term of endearment was "Cigarette-smoking son-of-a-bitch."

"Do you know what it's like to find out that you might as well be the spawn of Satan? Well, that's how I found out, the day that I looked the Devil in the eyes, and he told me that he was my father. Spender came to my bedside as I was dying in the hospital and hissed this to me, fully expecting my acceptance of his claim, and my loyalty. I'm not sure if Skywalker could have felt any more surprised and disgusted when Lord Vader revealed his paternity."

_Click  
_

"Cassandra and I were thought to be the only hybridized adults to live. Until we read further about Dr. Bishop's and William Bell's work with Kelvin Genetics. Kelvin Genetics was contracted to a shadow DOD project headed by the Syndicate."

Peter piped in, "Don't tell me that Walter was involved in this." His eyes seemed to dare Mulder to give the answer that he already knew.

"If anyone asked me who I thought were the two most influential men of the twentieth century, Peter, it would be my father and yours… Mine brought down presidents and played ambassador to alien civilizations. Yours changed many fields of science for better-or-for-worse and entered a parallel world."

"You mean broke universes, Mulder," Peter harshly interjected. "My father tore a crack in the fabric of reality itself. You and I have SO much to be proud of."

"At least your father repented and redeemed himself. Mine found out first hand that you can't sleep with the enemy. He died like a cowardly dog, and never relented that his 'truth' was not gospel. It was gospel all right. The Gospel of Satan. Grand liar and deceiver. Full on student of the philosophy that if you repeat a lie enough, people will believe it."

"I get it. Your father was Lord Vader. 'Fox, I'm your father' and all," Peter chuckled.

Scully coughed to get the conversation back to the topic at hand, and to stop the who-had-the-most-destructive-father contest. She continued the briefing.

_Click_

"Peter Bishop's mother—Elizabeth—had been seen by several of the doctors we found in files for the agency when we had confiscated CGB's computer and files. The man was like a rat, and the more we dug up, the more we found he had stashed away somewhere. One doctor of interest was named Eugene Openshaw. He was linked to Jeffrey Spender's mother, Cassandra. Anyway, you are going to be interested in what we found in her file."

Peter looked through the papers which had various sonograms, very advanced for their time. In addition to what appeared to be normal prenatal checkups, there were other documents titled, "enhancements." Peter flipped them open and saw various DNA patterns and sequences, some of which were showing "deletions" and "insertions."

Staring at the papers, Peter composed himself, as he tried to make rational sense of what he was seeing.

"What… are these? I was born in '78, as was the Peter Bishop whom this file concerns. Even in my slightly more advanced universe of origin, we did not have the sort of tech available for obstetrics. The human genome was barely understood."

"Officially, no. These weren't available to the public."

"So my father and his associates—both versions of him—were working with what exactly?"

"Tech from Rowell. Apparently these alien aggressors crashed there in both universes."

"You mean… wait… You are implying that the source of the deadly illness experienced by myself and my counterpart was of otherworldly origin?"

Scully and Mulder glanced at each other and Scully shook her head in affirmation.

"Mulder is the only adult that we know of who has DNA with a slight alien genome, but it's probably safe to say that you're not completely human either, Peter…"

"I don't believe this. I've had countless blood tests done and nothing came up out the ordinary."

"Unless there was ever occasion to test your DNA, it would have never been noticed."

"But my DNA was used to build a machine, which was attuned to a sequence of genetic markers unique to me."

"It took a complete profile to find Mulder's abnormalities, Mr. Bishop. He was in Georgetown Medical Center in DC for a week and no one suspected a thing. Most tests are never that thorough."

"Your counterpart died. Mulder was thought to have been dead. Jeffrey Spender went out of his way to give our baby some sort of injection, which I suspect made sure that his body did not reject itself, like what happened to you and your counterpart from this world, Mr. Bishop." Scully decisively stated a plan of action. "I say that first, Etta needs tested. Second… we need to exhume a body."

Peter was already on his phone at with Olivia at that point and explained that he needed her to have Walter—who was at Massive Dynamic—run a complete DNA and genome analysis for Etta. Sensing the fear in her husband's voice, she had readily agreed, and he swore that he'd let her know why as soon as possible.

Mulder gave Astrid some huge files containing rubbings from an ancient alien craft that had crashed off the Ivory Coast of Africa. "Scully completed some of the translation many years ago, but not all of it. Maybe you can finish the rest?"

"Sure thing," Astrid replied as she tried to not to sound too chipper given the dire story she had just heard. She felt conflicted as she was thrilled to have access to such an amazing discovery.

"OK, now that the important part is done… Whose body do you need to exhume?" Peter prodded.

Scully made an unpleasant scrunch to her face before she replied, "Call Olivia back. We need an exhumation order for… Peter Bishop, who died in '85."


	3. Truth Always Comes Out

"Why is it always rainy and miserable for these things," Peter whined as a slight shower covered the area. A backhoe roared in the distance as a dirt pile formed beside a small grave marked with a simple headstone engraved with "PETER BISHOP: 1978 – 1985.

"Maybe because it's a sad situation. Peter, you really shouldn't be here."

"Why not? They're digging me up," he contested, much with the petulance of a small child.

"Precisely. That doesn't bother you?" Olivia was concerned for how this would affect Peter. After all, seeing her LIVING alternate freaked her out. She couldn't imagine watching basically her own grave be dug up.

"At one time, it would have. But not now."

_Peter was long curious about young Peter from this side. He often dreamed of what he would be like, and whether he would have met Olivia. Sometimes the willingly-here man had felt suffocating guilt for basically replacing the poor kid who just missed his chance at living by a mere matter of a week. Walter had been persistent, but time ran out. And now Peter lives here. Things could have been so much different. He would have been the son of a powerful man. But the stolen boy had made peace with being the son of a different kind of powerful man, and he wouldn't change a thing. As far being as being careful what he wished for, he had no idea how his life Over There would have turned out, and he was content with things as they were, every bump and bruise._

_If he had the chance to bring this world's Peter Bishop back, would he do it? Selfishly, Peter had to finally answer, no._

Olivia tried her best to keep dry as the shower intensified. "Well, it bothers me. So, I wish you'd go home and not watch this. Walter signed off on it, but he was very adamant about not hearing anything else about it, understandably."

"If it bothers you, then maybe you should go home." Peter spread his legs apart in a defiant stance and folded his arms around his umbrella.

"Fine. Stay. But I don't want to have to hold you when you have nightmares, and the shrink bills are all yours."

"Save that for the examination. 'Livia"

"Dear, I unfortunately have to be there. Agent Scully said that you WILL NOT be doing the same."

"Liv… I have to look at the results."

"But NOT the pictures."

"Okay. Not the pictures."

The couple stood silent in the rain for a few minutes as they watched the grisly deed commence.

"Peter... They may want to do the same to… your mother as well."

Olivia watched as the reaction she had expected and dreaded happened right before her eyes. Peter went pale as a ghost and then raged into a tirade kicking the car tires and swearing like a sailor.

"NO. Absolutely, the HELL NOT. There is no fucking reason for them to disturb her, God damn it. They can go to Hell, the bastards. I'll piss on their family's graves if they do it. Fucking Mulder's family is buried in Chilmark. I can visit often."

"Calm down. You will do nothing of the sort. These people are your friends, and only want what we want; a safer world for our children. However, I'll have nothing to do with such a request, because I know how you feel about her. But Walter said he would sign the papers if needed."

At that statement, Peter's demeanor changed. His faced scrunched up, his brow deeply furrowed, and he swallowed hard, as he futilely tried to quell his tears. Olivia watched helplessly as he slumped down against the car into the mud, and sobbed a soft, wavering, "No…" into his hands as the rain fell onto him. She sat down beside him and whispered that she was there for him, and if anything, they just had to hope that Etta would be okay. Peter cried into her shoulder.

Olivia decided that this was not going to happen. Her husband had suffered enough.

"It's OK, Love. I'll be right back."

He looked back up at her with tear-streaked, blood-shot eyes and croaked, "Where are you going?"

"You'll see."

Olivia tramped over the mostly overgrown cemetery and walked straight up to Mulder and Scully. She grabbed Scully by the arm. "I need to speak with you." Mulder gave them a funny look, but continued to watch as the crew began to hook tow lines to a small casket, which was good, because Olivia didn't want him to know about Peter's vulnerable state. Knowing what she knew about most males and their dynamics with one another, it would embarrass Peter, and she didn't want to do that.

Out of earshot of the others, she said, "Promise me that you won't exhume Elizabeth Bishop." Olivia nervously shuffled as she made her request. This was her idol, and she was questioning her authority.

"There are some things that we can find out about her that could be helpful to this situation," Scully retorted.

"But is she critical?" Olivia responded with firmness.

"No… I am curious if she had a piece of tech, an implant, like one that I was subjected to."

"So it's more personal than anything, Agent Scully? Well, here is my personal objection." Olivia became brave. She waved her arm and pointed in the direction of the car where Peter still sat, paralyzed, and took a deep breath.

"That is my loving husband, one of the strongest people I know, but he is over there, in the mud, nearly bawling like an abandoned baby. Do you know why? It's because when I told him that his mother's grave might be disturbed, and that her remains might be autopsied, he broke down into that young man who received a phone call one night, over 15 years ago, that informed him that his mother had killed herself, while he was literally humping his way across Europe."

"He has long beat himself up over the fact, and blames himself, although the reason could have been any number of things. He feels that he failed to protect her, and Peter is a very protective man. I mean… the guy can handle what 2 universes have thrown at him, but Elizabeth is his weak spot. He gives himself to the world all of the time, and asks for so very little in return. In fact, so much has been taken from him—from us. So I ask, Agent, that you don't subject my dear Peter to that. Please."

Olivia paused for a moment, as a small tear made its way down her cheek, and she mentally cursed it.

"I can't stand to see him in pain like this, and you can bet he will lose any will to help you. And my God, we need him."

"The answer could shed some light on the origins of this, Olivia. Wouldn't Peter want to know?"

"I think for once in his life, that he doesn't want an answer. He wants for her to be left alone. That much was made very clear to me, and I stand by him."

Scully closed her eyes as she considered what Olivia had told her. She thought of how much she loved her mother and what his mother's death did to Mulder.

She was certain the Mulder would never forgive her if the subject of interest was his mother. If Elizabeth Bishop ever had an implant, she'd just have to accept never knowing.

"We won't touch her grave, Olivia," Scully gave her a hug. "I am so sorry to have upset your husband so much. Let him know."

When the triumphant blond arrived back to Peter, she helped him to stand up. He was shivering, soaked to the bone, and the circulation in his legs was weak. Olivia grabbed a wool emergency blanket out of their vehicle and wrapped it around him, as he sat numb in the passenger's seat.

"Look," he whispered. "There he is." The casket had been hoisted out of the grave and was set onto the tarp next to it.

Olivia gently pulled his face around to her. "Scully said they will leave your mother be."

It was as if he had been injected with color. "Really? Why?"

"Let's just say I can be mighty convincing when it comes to you," she remarked as she kissed him full on the lips. "And Dana Scully is every bit of the woman I thought she was."

He stared up at her; happiness, gratitude, and love etched all over his face. "God, I love you, 'Livia. Thank you, thank you," he murmured as he pulled her into an embrace with him. "You never cease to amaze me."

* * *

"What was that about? With Agent Dunham? Hugs even? Mulder queried his mate.

"Wife and mother business. That's all," Scully flatly stated; a newfound respect for Olivia was hers today. The woman knew where to draw the line when it came to answers and her loved ones.

Mulder pursed his lips and nodded, knowing not to push the issue further, as they got into their vehicle.

"I'll take care of the autopsy. When we have the results, I have a feeling that Doctor Bishop will need to play the most serious game of Memory he has ever played in his life."

The casket containing the earthly remains of seven-year-old Peter Bishop was loaded into a hearse and made its way to Fringe Division headquarters.

* * *

Olivia collapsed onto their bed, and it wasn't long before Peter emerged from the shower and did the same. Both had a lot on their mind, but Peter wasn't about to be the first to talk. He pulled her close to him under the blanket and it wasn't long before they were passionately kissing one another. Peter ran his hands down her pajama-covered thigh. She felt that he was half hard against her and slightly rolling himself into her; she smiled into his lips, and then murmured in his ear, which made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. "Before you get too excited, you might want to check and see if we have any condoms…"

Peter stopped kissing her, and sighed. "I suppose after what we've seen and heard over the last two days, baby number two is on hiatus…"

Olivia nodded her head in the affirmative. "I'm scared. For us. For Etta. For everyone."

"I'm scared, too, sweetheart." Peter nuzzled her with affection. "This is fine. I just want to love you any way I can. Besides, we know that it's more difficult to get pregnant when breastfeeding, anyway. So maybe we should wait until after she's weaned, even though your age is a concern to us. It will give your body more time to recover. It's not like you're near 40 yet. We've time to space out three."

Not knowing when their next chance might be, Olivia husked, "I want _you_, though. So _look_.

"Hush about biological clocks and the sterile mechanics of the pregnancy business. We'll get our 'tribe of Bishops,' eventually, unless you continue to woo me like that."

"Yes, ma'am," Peter laughed, and then he proceeded to dig around the nightstand. "I really don't think we have any… maybe some of the ones that might as well be stamped 'biohazard suit,' which kind of defeats the purpose… Here's some lube, maybe we can resort to other… um… activities." He turned back around to her and flashed a wicked smile.

He stopped for a moment and could see Olivia was straining to listen, too.

Small cries came from the nursery across the hall, which were sure to become more persistent.

"Well… even if we wanted to try anything else, it's about time for her feeding anyway," Olivia chuckled.

His desire fully doused, Peter got up and put on a robe. "I'll take care of her. You've had her most of the time lately. Rest dear. We're going to need all cylinders."

* * *

Peter entered his daughter's room and his eyes immediately focused on the loud, little wiggling bundle in the crib. Her cries had intensified. He grabbed a small bottle from the dorm-sized fridge and popped it into a bottle warmer. As he worked, he talked to Etta.

He lifted her gently into his arms and took her straight to the changing table.

"All right. Operation Soggy Bottom has commenced. This is a risky business, and a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it. And who better than world champion, ace diaper-changer, Daddy?"

Etta was not amused with her father's attempt at comedy, and continued to cry. Especially since her bare tush was exposed to the cool of the air, after having been wet. "Mm… tough audience tonight," he grinned. Peter completed the job and had her back into her terry cloth sleeper in record time. He was getting good at this business. Two months ago, it took him ten times as long, Etta sometimes ended up with a diaper on backwards, and he had a hell of a time snapping her back into her clothes. She was just so… delicate… and wiggly…. Olivia had sarcastically retorted to his early crows of victory that their baby might just survive her inept father's care after all.

Peter gently wrapped her up loosely in a soft, fleece leaf-print blanket, and held her close to his chest. Her tiny hands clutched at him futilely, and she grunted in frustration because Daddy was not equipped like Mommy. Peter grabbed the bottle and slipped down in the glider rocker, his precious daughter anxious because she sensed that this routine meant her tummy would soon be full. He tested the bottle temperature, found it satisfactory, and offered the nipple to the hungry child's waiting lips. He cooed and talked to her as she ate, but his mind was going full speed over the day's event and what it all meant for his family.

"Ok, now. Slow down little piggy, or you're going to burp that all up on my shoulder, and that won't make either of us happy."

_She depends on us for everything. God, such a small creature to have such power over a man. All I want from life is for her to be safe, healthy, happy, and for her to grow up to be the best woman that she can be. Is that too much to ask for?_

"_What are our chances of having a normal life?_" echoed in his head.

* * *

**_The next day._**

"Do you like basketball, Bishop? There are some nice indoor courts near here."

"It's all right. I'm more of a hockey man as far as professional sports go. Bruins all the way, though I grew up loving the Celtics when Larry Bird was in his heyday."

"Ah... you're a hometown boy then? You'd consider me a traitor. New York Knicks forever."

Peter groaned, and made a hex gesture at Mulder. "And here you are breathing the same air that I am."

"Can't help it. Saw the man Walt Frazier play, and have been a loyal fan ever since."

"I prefer horse racing and table games. Cards and dice. They're really more personal than team

sports."

"Gambling games. Of course they are personal. At least the Knicks get into my wallet in a way I want."

"Games of skill and probability. Even the 20-sided variety. I've been known to play a good game of Dungeons and Dragons, Mulder, if you're ever up for a bit of the fantastical; if we survive the coming apocalypse, that is. Speaking of which, sometimes I feel what we've done is far more out there than anything a demented game master could throw at us. I mean, what is a hugely pissed-off black dragon compared to colliding universes and alien colonization? I guess maybe if we played a Lovecraftian game, that universe could be more horrifying… At least I haven't felt the need to hit up Arkham Sanitarium lately…"

"Heck, we even have pretty standard characters. I'm a former-nomadic rogue with an artificer skill, my father is a blue mage alchemist, Olivia is a classic paladin, who can planeswalk, and Astrid is like an eleven mage scholar: reader of runes and scrolls."

"What would I be?" Mulder asked, actually interested in Peter's character analysis.

"At one time I would have pegged you as a hermetic zealot. Maybe a drow—a dark elf—wandering the depths of the underground."

Mulder laughed, "I may have to use your RPG character descriptions in my profiles, Bishop. They can tell

a lot about a person. Tell you what. Let's blow off some steam while we wait and play some b-ball."

"All right... but something tells me that you'll smoke me..."

"I'll take you up on your roleplaying adventure. We can make it a couple's thing."

"It sounds so dirty when you say it like that… Heh, I think Olivia would be fine with that until I showed her the concept I had in mind for her armor... Plus, the way she is with numbers... she'd break the system and would make level 100 before we knew it... but it would be fun."

"OK, it's a deal, although I have a slight suspicion that you may be trying to hustle me in b-ball. Come on. You have youth to your advantage."

Peter chuckled, "I've hustled a lot in my time, old man, but I assure you that my game is game-y."

Mulder grinned. "Beats sitting around with our thumbs up our rears while the women do the dirty work. Listen, if I was you, I wouldn't look at the initial results from this autopsy, OK? You're going to be stressed enough as it is."

Peter became serious and crossed his arms. "Etta's aunt is staying with her. Rachel has had two kids, and I trust my baby will be fine without me for a few days, even if she is a daddy's girl. I'm pretty useless otherwise right now. Besides, Mulder, if this is as big as you guys think, then I deserve to know. I must know. I can't go into this fight half blind for reasons of sentimentality."


End file.
